Faces in the Crowd

Sweat drips to the ground.
Hair rises of the back of the neck.
Pulse quickens,
Pounding against the ears.
Swallowing becoming difficult.
A quick glance over the shoulder,
Reveals the steadily growing crowd.
Shadowy figures moving without a care.
At first they seemed so familiar,
Until a closer look unveils,
The blur that makes up a face.
No more recognizable,
That a tree on a distant mountain side.
The masked mannequins,
Move about without acknowledgement,
As if to be ignorant of my presence,
Almost denying my existence.
I stand there stunned,
As the thickly populated crowd of drones,
Move around and about.
Must think quickly,
Have to act soon,
Before it's too late.
It's either slip back and blend in,
Or stand out and be proud.
Become anonymous,
Another face in the crowd.
Or become an outcast,
Looked down upon by the rest.
The time has come.
What will it be?
I choose exile,
A life of distrust and misery.
How could I not?
After all,
That's me.
The loner in the crowd,
On the outside looking in.
No I was not doomed by fate.
I willingly chose this path.
If asked to choose again,
The path I would go down,
I would not say a single word.
We both know what I would choose.
A quick smile,
A simple wink,
As I begin to walk down,
The road of loneliness and isolation.